


Night Watch

by lizzledpink



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-17
Updated: 2015-01-17
Packaged: 2018-03-07 23:08:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3186701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizzledpink/pseuds/lizzledpink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Varric almost wished something would attack the camp. He could have used the distraction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Night Watch

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt was "Pre-relationship and Cassandra unintentionally half-seduces Varric but doesn't realize until later."
> 
> This fic technically includes animal death, but only because it involves wolves attacking, similar to how they attack in Inquisition. I apologize to real-life wolves and blame in-game wolves. Sorry, wolves.

The night was cold, not for the actual chill of the air so much as the wind. This, Varric thought as he shifted into his duster, was why he liked cities. Big buildings liked to stand in the way of the wind, force it to go over his head, if anywhere at all. In a city, or even a small town, he was too low to the ground for all this gusting, blustering bullshit. 

But in big, empty meadows on the edge of a river, it was open season.

Damn cold wind. Varric almost wished something would attack the camp. He could have used the distraction. Scowling, he stuck his feet out towards the fire. 

"You really don’t like the cold, do you?" Cassandra asked, amused.

"If it were just cold, I’d grab another blanket. But it’s  _wind._ ”

"Wind, then."

"No. I really, really don’t."

"I see."

And that was another problem. She made it look so, so easy.

Cassandra had wandered over to the fire at the same time he had, when the Inquisitor and Sparkler had ended their shifts and woken them up, but she’d come over with a steady gait and open eyes. Then, she’d sat down cross-legged in front of the fire, placed her sword across the span of her legs, and proceeded to act as if it wasn’t cold or windy or the middle of the night at all.

Really, it just wasn’t fair that he was tired and uncomfortable while she was clearly too superhuman for nonsense like that. 

"This doesn’t bother you? Not even a little?" he asked her.

"Of course it bothers me," she replied, making an expression that was not quite a frown. "I just have other things on my mind."

"Such as what?"

"The Chant of Light, for one."

It took him a moment to process that. She was thinking of the Chant of Light? But wasn’t that all memorization, and… Oh. “You mean you’re ignoring the cold by reciting that ‘for she who has faith in the Maker flame is her water’ stuff?”

"For she who trusts in the Maker, fire is her water," Cassandra said, a little sarcastic in her recital. "Though, truthfully, I’m a little surprised you knew even that much."

"Well, you Chantry types go around reciting it so much, you do pick up a word here and there. But that’s what you’re doing?"

"Yes," Cassandra growled.

"So you’re basically just enduring it through a repeated phrase. Okay, I feel better now."

“ _Why_?” she asked.

"Just nice to have a reminder that you’re not some immortal goddess who’s completely immune to all earthly ailments, that’s all."

"For the last time, Varric. If I were some sort of deity, I’d think you would know by now."

"Now, that’s not exactly true," Varric said, bullshitting. Ah, he loved bullshitting. "I mean, you could always be the reborn spirit of Andraste herself and not even know it."

With a long, measured sigh, Cassandra asked him, “Do you always spout such blasphemy?”

"No, only for special people, the ones who really hate it." He only just stopped himself from winking at her. Ah, shit, there went the conversation, treading into dangerous territory as usual.

Cassandra grunted in annoyance and returned to staring at a point just past the fire, a little frown settling into her face. But, from his dictionary of interpreted Cassandra frowns, he could tell it wasn’t an overly annoyed frown, just her usual one. Her impatience with him would wear off after a few minutes. 

In the silence, Varric remembered that he was cold and it was windy. He swore in the sanctity of his head and searched around for another distraction. 

"It’s really that I am reciting the Chant of Light that makes you think I’m not… immune?"

He glanced back at her. She wasn’t looking at him; her gaze was still stuck on some far-off point, perhaps on the opposite bank of the river. Her annoyed frown had slipped into a more thoughtful one when he wasn’t looking, and the sight captured his attention for a moment. 

Rolling straight through his little hesitation, he replied, “Well, what else would it be?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her roll her shoulders, shrugging. “Apart from the fact that I likely look as though I just rolled out of bed? Because that is what I did?”

Well, that was true. She had taken most of her makeup off, making her eyes just a little less harsh and a little less inviting at the same time. Her hair was just slightly out of place, a little frizzy, sticking up here and there, and her braid seemed somewhat loose. When the wind blew strong, it shifted in her hair, unstable. 

But that wasn’t something he was about to comment on, for a couple of reasons. The first was that he had seen her that way before, disheveled like this, but that was at Haven. He didn’t want to think about Haven. And the other reason… Well, he wasn’t going to tell her that she still looked… He wasn’t going to tell her that. Wasn’t going to mention anything about short sleep being unable to take away the way the moonlight highlighted her features when it hit her cheekbones the right way. Nah, nothing like that.

So he hadn’t thought about it.

"I hadn’t really noticed," he lied smoothly.

"Right," she said doubtfully. 

"No, really, I hadn’t! If I had, I would have led with something about that rather than complaining about the cold, don’t you think?"

"I thought you were complaining about the wind?" she said, looking at him, and there it was, that little smile that meant she was playing his game. 

"I don’t know what you’re talking about. I definitely said the cold."

"You lie as often as you blaspheme."

"I certainly try."

She shook her head at him for that one, and though she looked away again, he swore that smile was still tugging at her lips. 

He really loved that smile. 

Varric looked away before he could get caught staring at her. Though, given what she thought of him, she’d probably just think he was preparing a joke about her appearance. Something about her hair, probably, the little cowlick that she might not know she had which made some of her hair jump out over her braid in the back. 

She probably thought he’d sooner insult her looks than spend more time than he should appreciating them. 

With a long sigh, Varric pulled his feet back from the campfire, replacing them with his hands. He really hated wind. Not only did it make things colder, but it carried the heat away, out of his grasp. 

"Why is this watch even necessary?" he complained. "We lit a fire. Are the corpses in the fort going to wake up and think, oh boy, fire, that stuff mages use to burn us! Let’s definitely attack that! I’m not saying they’re smart, but they seem to have _some_ measure of self-preservation, you know."

"You would rather risk being woken by a corpse’s hands on your neck than spend the time watching out for them?"

"I have the funniest feeling I’m going to lose all your respect if I say yes."

"That," Cassandra muttered, "would require you to have my respect in the first place."

"Now that’s just unfair, Seeker," Varric said, putting a hand to his heart in mock pain. "I’m sure you have some modicum-"

Cassandra seemed to notice something, sharply turning her head to her right, his left. Quietly, she slipped her arm into her shield and picked up her sword.

Varric didn’t let it stop him. “-of respect for me,” he continued as he slowly leaned over to grab Bianca. “After all, you do read my books.”

"That doesn’t mean - drop the act, Varric, it’s only wolves." Cassandra got to her feet and put herself in a battle stance.

Varric followed her lead, turning to face the plains. A small pack of wolves was approaching, teeth bared and glowing in the darkness. As they came closer, he could hear them growl.

He loaded Bianca up and fired at the ground before the wolf at the front of the formation, hoping to scare it with a warning shot. Unfortunately, these wolves weren’t the scaring type, and after only a brief pause they continued advancing. 

"Now are you happy we kept watch?" Cassandra asked.

"It’s still cold," he told her, loading Bianca again. 

"You’re completely irrepressible," she muttered.

Varric didn’t know what to make of that comment, but at that point the wolves were close enough to pounce, and he quickly forgot to respond. He fired at one running in his direction without hesitation, sending it off its course; he instinctively loaded Bianca with another bolt and fired again, taking another temporarily out of the fight.

The majority of the wolves had gone after Cassandra, a poor decision on their part. Cassandra was well-armored enough that hardly any bites would even make contact, and any wolf that tried to jump her and get her to the ground was sliced before it could get that far. 

He started picking at the wolves on her sides, trying to get a little bit of damage off on each of them. Loading up a special shot, he fired at a spot just behind the wolves. The bolt exploded, sending shrapnel into the wolves’ behinds. Cassandra, just outside the blast radius, didn’t even blink - she cut at the wolves which were particularly stunned by his trick shot and felled them quickly.

The two wolves that had gone after Varric were up again now, coming his way. Cassandra was down to only two wolves and she could undoubtedly handle herself at this point - although she could probably take down eight wolves alone, she would simply come out with a few more scratches. He liked to spare her a scratch where he could.

The first wolf came at him again, dead-on. Varric took an extra moment to aim and it paid off. The bolt hit it square between the eyes. The other one was a little cleverer, trying to flank him while he took on its friend; Varric ducked out of its way as he loaded up Bianca’s next shot. He fired with little time for aiming and it hit the wolf, but only on its leg. It circled around and headed back towards him, angered.

Then Cassandra speared the beast, and with a pitiful cry, it fell on its side, dead.

"That’s the last of them," she said, sheathing her sword calmly.

Varric looked at the dead and dying wolves they’d left around. “I certainly hope so,” he muttered. “I’d hate to fight more.” He looked back at Cassandra.

She shook her head and Varric stared in surprise because when she did, something by her face moved.

When she stopped shaking her head, he saw it for what it was. It was a long, slightly frizzy strand of hair, braided at the top, loose and wavy at the bottom, down to her chest, attached to her head from just above the right side of her bangs. It took him an extra moment to connect the dots and realize that it was  _her_ hair, the section that was always braided in a neat crown around her head. 

"What is it?" she asked. Before he could answer, or think, she waved a hand in front of her face and caught the strand. She frowned at it, annoyed. "Damn."

"It came loose," Varric said. He nearly kicked himself for stating the obvious.

"I noticed." With a sigh, Cassandra went back to the campfire and sat down again, arranging herself as she’d been before.

Varric followed her back in a bit of a daze. Somehow, it hadn’t even occurred to him that her braid was a physical part of her, something that she probably maintained and cared for on a regular basis. It was just… that thing on Cassandra’s head. The little piece of controlled, eye-catching femininity in her sharp mess of short hair.

He wanted to make a really poor decision now that it was out of its usual place. Brush it back behind her ear like the male lead in some cruddy Orlesian play, maybe.

As he sat down again, she said, “Damn that pin.”

"Pin?"

"A hairpin. You didn’t think that braid stayed up on its own, did you?"

Varric’s tongue caught up again,  _finally_. ”I was fairly certain it was a halo bestowed to you by the Divine herself, imbued with holy floating powers.”

That actually got a small smirk out of her. “Surprisingly, no.” The smirk didn’t last long, as she sighed again. With her fingers, she quickly undid the remainder of the braid, untangling it. She was clearly familiar with the process, taking the loops apart with a speed that spoke to a great deal of practice. “I usually tuck it into place with one or two pins. But I don’t often carry spares on missions, and it’s too dark for me to have any chance of finding it until morning, if at all.”

Varric slowly began to grin.

"What?" she asked flatly, unamused.

"I have a hairpin," he said. 

She probably couldn’t have been more surprised if he’d suddenly got up and started tap-dancing. “You’re joking.”

"Not at all."

"What use would  _you_ have for a hairpin?”

Varric reached into his coat and pulled out a little leather case where he stored his lockpicks. Right inside the case he kept a couple of small hairpins. He slipped one out quickly and offered it to her with what he knew was a shit-eating grin.

"I should have known," Cassandra muttered, eyeing his lockpicking kit with disdain.

"Don’t get all snobby over a pin, Seeker. I have them for perfectly legal purposes."

He surprised her again, twice in the same minute. This was already turning out to be a better night than expected. 

"Such as what?" she said, reaching over to take the pin. 

"Bianca."

The look on her face was, for a split second, priceless.

"You know, she has all these moving parts," he explained, waving at his crossbow. In the corner of his eye he saw Cassandra relax, and he tried not to let on that he’d seen it. "Sometimes one of the parts gets a little out of whack, and I’ve got big dwarf fingers," he said, waving them at her. "Sometimes it helps to have something tiny that can reach and nudge the smaller parts. I find hairpins are cheap and get the job done."

Cassandra turned the pin over in her hands, thinking. “So you keep hairpins.”

"And," he added, because he just loved digging his hole a little deeper, "I find they’re useful for looking suave when a fine lady has need of one. Keep it, I have more back in Skyhold."

"I’m not sure if I have ever in my entire life been a fine lady," Cassandra replied, "but thank you." She smiled at him, a warm, appreciative smile that made his stomach do a small, happy flip. 

"No problem."

Nothing, not a single thing, could have prepared Varric for what came next.

Cassandra put the pin between her teeth for a second. She grabbed the strand of hair, combing it out with her fingers for just a moment longer, and then she began to braid it. Her fingers worked quickly, used to the movements, dividing the strand into three and folding it over between her fingers and thumbs.

Varric couldn’t help but watch, transfixed. He understood the basics of braiding, sure, but there was something a little amazing about this. It was a feat of dexterity and skill that he couldn’t match. At that angle he’d bet she couldn’t even see the braid, except for a black blur to the side. She was going only off her fingers, and her fingers knew exactly what to do. Her face was concentrated, thoughtful, as though all her being was, for the moment, focused entirely on her fingers.

She braided it all the way down at a clean, quick pace, occasionally holding the bottom with one hand while she inspected the top for lumps and out of place strands with the other. Sometimes she found one and she tugged it into place, all the way down again, before continuing. In a matter of minutes she had braided that hair all the way to the bottom, leaving it much shorter than it had been before.

Her fingers gave the braid one last, quick inspection, and then she wrapped it around her head. While she held it closed with one hand, she quickly snatched the hairpin from her teeth and slid it into place with the other.

The rest of her hair was still a little out of place, but the braid was completely clean and sat on her head as normally as ever.

"What is it?" Cassandra asked.

She’d caught him staring. And damn, he hadn’t even realized how _much_ he’d been staring. 

It was just something he’d never really expected from her, a skill that… surprised him, and maybe swept him a little off his feet.

He considered a few lies. There was plenty he could draw from - that one cowlick she still hadn’t eliminated, or the use of his hairpin, or a number of other things. But none of them sounded quite right. 

So he went for the understatement.

"That was impressive," he said. 

"It’s not very hard," she replied, "and I can only do it so quickly because I have done it for years."

"It’s still impressive," he insisted. And not just because he could imagine those fingers doing other things, either.

She snorted softly, probably not believing him. “Thank you for the pin,” she said again. “I would have hated having to deal with that when we got moving in the morning, otherwise.”

"It’s really no trouble," Varric replied. He  _had_  to be hitting his honesty quota for the day. He couldn’t help but ask, while the streak was going, “Why do you wear your hair like that, anyway?”

"Because I like to," she said. 

"…That’s it?"

Cassandra looked at him skeptically. “Yes. It was all longer, once. I didn’t like it as much. But I do like braids.”

"Huh," he said. "Well… it looks nice."

"You’re really not going to tease me about this?"

Varric had to laugh at that. Andraste’s ear, maybe one day she wouldn’t expect him to insult her at every turn. Maybe one day he wouldn’t encourage that impression, and maybe one day he might even compliment her more than twice in a row without going sarcastic on her. But probably not.

"You just had a harrowing experience where your precious hairpin was stolen by  _wolves_ ,” he replied. “I’m giving you a temporary free pass.”

"It was not stolen by wolves," Cassandra said, glaring at him.

"I bet if you cut open their bellies, you’ll find it in one of them, you know."

"It’s on the ground somewhere, probably between blades of grass."

"That’s what they  _want_ you to think,” he said, and he couldn’t stop the wink this time.

She huffed and looked away. 

But that smile was tugging at her lips again. 

While she wasn’t paying attention, he stole another look at that braid in her hair. It still amazed him to think of her braiding it. She had surprised him. And as usual with her surprises, it only made her seem more… Oh, he could at least think the word, couldn’t he? She was beautiful. Just beautiful. 

The thought of her using his hairpin was… really, really bad. He wouldn’t even put something that terrible in his fluffiest, worst books. It was utterly  _silly_ to get flustered over someone stealing your hairpin. 

And Varric knew, in the bottom of his completely fucked heart, that he was going to be thinking about it non-stop for a week. 


	2. Coda

It wasn't often that Varric got to see this. Usually they went their separate ways very early in the day. More often than not, Cassandra woke up before him, and by the time he was up and moving she was heading out the door.

So watching her redo her braid was a rare treat. It was also the first time he'd had the chance to watch it while neither of them were in any rush. It was a lazy weekend morning, a day off, and they had nowhere to be.

He observed her quietly, leaning against the door frame. She had sat down in front of a mirror, but he already knew she didn't need one. It just made the process go by a tiny bit faster.

"You like watching this?" she asked, genuinely a little perplexed.

"Always have," he replied easily. "What can I say? I can appreciate it when someone's good with their hands."

" _Always_ have?" she asked. She put the pieces together quickly. "You saw me do this once, on the Exalted Plains."

"Yeah, and you stole my hairpin to do it. Couldn't stop thinking about either of those things for days."

"I found my pin the next morning."

"Well, there go all those fantasies."

Cassandra finished up her hair and looked over at him with a smile. "It had been trampled into the dirt a little, so I picked it up, but I didn't put it on until I had returned to Skyhold and washed it off."

"Oh."

"The one you gave me was of different make than my other hairpins," she continued, still smiling. "So after that, I always knew when I was wearing it - once I'd kicked myself into realizing it was a perfectly good hairpin and there was no reason to avoid it."

"...Oh."

"And on days when you were you particularly on my nerves, it was a nice reminder that you didn't always have it out for me."

"Seeker, you're gonna make me blush," Varric said, bullshitting less than he'd've liked.

Cassandra pulled open a drawer, took out a little bag, and used a finger to look through its contents before she drew a hairpin out.  _That_ hairpin. She smiled pointedly at him (his jaw might have dropped, a little), and then put the pin in the bag and the bag in the drawer again.

"So at least half of your ridiculous fantasies about that pin were probably completely true."

Varric wandered over to her and put a hand on the back of her neck. He kissed her temple, then the top of her head, and she leaned a little into his chest. 

"I can't believe you half-seduced me by doing your hair," he muttered.

"Oh, no," Cassandra said dryly. "How terrible for your poor, wounded soul."

"It'll never recover," he agreed. "I should go do something to help it. Heroically knock the stuffing out of some bandits. Pal around with the Inquisitor and make fun of self-important snobs who come our way. Win a hand against Ruffles."

"No, I think you're staying right here," Cassandra replied, drawing him into a slightly heated kiss.

Well, that worked. too.


End file.
